


I Know Something Now (I Didn't Before)

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Bickering, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, VidCon, YouTube, youtubers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons would have been much more excited about being a guest at a convention if it weren’t for her infuriating quasi-rival, Leo Fitz.</p><p>It was going to be one long weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AthenaMuze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaMuze/gifts).



> Written for [AthenaMuze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaMuze/pseuds/AthenaMuze)/[upsidedownhappyland](http://upsidedownhappyland.tumblr.com/) as part of my 500 Followers Fic Giveaway from 100 years ago! Sorry for the delay, dear, and I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to [ardentaislinn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn) for the tremendous beta help and general encouragement!
> 
> Title from Everything Has Changed by TSwift/Ed Sheeran.

“So that’s that, Skeptics. Will whipping cream in a copper bowl rather than a plastic one lend itself to a more stable foam?” Jemma sipped the vanilla milkshake she’d made, intentionally getting a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her nose before smiling into the camera. “Believe it!”

She felt a sudden tickle in her nose, and before she could stop it, she sneezed right into her milkshake. Behind the camera, her friend and producer, Skye, dissolved into fitful giggles, and Jemma couldn’t help but join in. At least her traitorous nose had waited until they’d finished shooting next week’s episode.

“That was amazing, Jemma,” Skye said, her laughter dying down as she popped the memory card out of the camera. “Maybe the next episode should be all about food allergies.”

“I’m not allergic to a thing, I’ll have you know!” Jemma thought about it for a moment. “Well, my tongue did tend to itch a little bit every time my ex-boyfriend Tad would order pineapple on his pizza.”

Skye wrinkled her nose. “I think in Tad’s case, it was the boyfriend you were allergic to.”

Jemma laughed and nodded, crossing the kitchen to where her laptop sat on the bar. She hopped up to sit on one of her barstools as Skye began to load the day’s footage onto her own computer.

“Checking on your videos? I’m sure they’re still there. Racking up views,” Skye teased, eyes on her screen.

Jemma stuck out her tongue, though she knew Skye wouldn’t see. “It’s my duty as a video content producer to ensure the quality of discourse surrounding my videos.”

“Trolling your own comments section. I dig it.” Then Skye spun toward Jemma. “You’re not gonna check out your subscriptions now, are you?”

“Well, I was only going to see if there were any new videos since I last--”

Skye rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Fine, but can you not watch GameboyPro’s latest while I’m here? Put on the most recent Triplett Files. I hear he tests out some really badass antique gadgets in this one.” She began to load the footage into Premiere with a few swift keystrokes. “Just, anything but the Gameboy. He gets you so riled up.”

“I have no interest in watching _that_ bit of nonsense, Skye. It’s quite possibly the worst thing on the channel! Even worse than Up Close and Nerdsonal.” She shuddered at the thought of what was certainly the _second_ worst show on the channel. How many hosts were necessary to helm one YouTube show? For that matter, how many Koenig brothers _were_ there?

“So why do you watch every episode three times?”

“Whose, the Koenigs’?”

“No, Gameboy’s! Leo Fitz’s!”

Jemma made a face. “Ugh. It’s necessary. The first time, all I can think about is how nauseated first-person-shooter games always make me feel.”

“And the second time?”

“The second time, all ll I can think about is how wrong some of his facts are. The science behind video games _could_ be an interesting topic, but not the way he does it.” Jemma wavered for a moment before giving in. “Though he _does_ happen to be right about much of the science. Most of it, really.”

Skye gave her a pointed look, though Jemma wasn’t sure what it was meant to point out. “And the third time?”

“Oh, the third time, all I can think about is how odd it is that he chooses to narrate the videos in VO, never appearing on camera. I’ve seen his Wikipedia photo, and he’s not _that_ bad to look at.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Moderately attractive, even.”

“Riiight.”

Jemma sighed, turning in her chair to face Skye. “I just think his model doesn’t fit our channel, that’s all. We’re all about the true representation of self, and how that dovetails with science. And he’s over there, making Army men shoot at each other and just talking incessantly. It’s so inauthentic.”

Skye plugged her enormous noise-canceling headphones into her laptop and put them around her neck. “Again I say, riiight.”

“I can’t help it if he’s a fish out of water on SciTech. How his view counts consistently manage to rival mine is completely beyond me.”

“I’m going in,” Skye said, pulling the headphones over her ears. “I’m glad I bought these with that sweet, sweet YouTube money, because I’m gonna need ‘em when you inevitably watch Gameboy on repeat even though I warned you not to.”

“I’m not going to!” Jemma protested, but Skye just shrugged innocently and pointed to her headphones, indicating that she could no longer hear. Jemma scowled and turned back to her computer. She was not going to watch Gameboy’s latest episode. Certainly not before the _much_ more fascinating videos some of the channel’s other content producers had put out that week.

Her cursor hovered over a colorful thumbnail that featured Billy Koenig-- or was that Sam?-- hugging a VHS copy of the original Star Wars (unaltered version, of course) and waffled. She dragged her finger across her trackpad, shooting a glance at Skye. She certainly did not get _riled up_ when she watched Fitz’s videos. She could keep her opinions in check. With a sly tilt of her screen so that Skye might not be able to see, Jemma pressed play on the latest episode of GameboyPro and braced herself to be annoyed.

 

\---

 

Three hours later, Skye shut her laptop with a groan. Jemma looked up from her Twitter feed and chuckled at the exaggeratedly pained look on her friend’s face.

“Don’t laugh,” Skye said, setting her headphones on the countertop and cracking her neck. “I don’t know why I chose a profession where I spend half my life squinting at a computer screen. I’m gonna die of bad eyesight by the time I turn 30.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “One can’t _die_ of poor eyesight, Skye, and besides, you do it because you love it.”

“True.” Skye raised her eyebrows at Jemma. “And?”

“And you’re so very brilliant at it.”

“There it is. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“Don’t _I_ keep _you_ around?” Jemma stood up and crossed to the fridge, wrinkling her nose at its contents-- sriracha and beer. She really needed to make time to hit the grocery store.

“At this point, I think it’s mutual,” said Skye, starting to pack her equipment away. “On that note, I gotta head.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? We could order in.”

“Nah, I snagged a little freelance editing project and I’ve gotta go pick up a memory card by 6.”

Just as Jemma opened her mouth to respond, her phone buzzed from where it sat beside her laptop. She held up a finger to Skye and answered. “Phil, how are you?”

“Never better,” said the voice over the phone. “And you? Blown up that kitchen of yours yet?”

“Ha ha. No, still completely intact. Fortunately for the show, or else I’d be doing experiments with detergent in the laundry room downstairs.”

Phil laughed, and Jemma couldn’t help but smile. She’d only met Phil, the director of the business side of SciTech, a few times, but she appreciated how much he cared about the channel and its creators. His calls, however infrequent, were always welcome.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” Jemma asked. It had been a couple of weeks since Phil had last checked in via anything other than email.

“Well, while I do want to catch up, I also have a proposition for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Got an email from the VidCon team earlier today.”

“Oh?” It had been a shock when the VidCon schedule had been announced and no one from SciTech had been on it. Jemma knew that as a growing convention, it had to be selective, but couldn’t pretend she wasn’t a bit disappointed to not get an invite.

“They said SciTech’s exclusion was just an oversight. Wires got crossed, et cetera.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“Does it matter?” Jemma could picture Phil’s deadpan smirk as he continued. “I just want my creators acknowledged for the work they do.”

“You’re sweet.”

“So anyway, they’ve got space for two. I’m sending you, if that’s okay?”

Jemma tilted her head at Skye, who was waiting patiently in case Phil’s call resulted in more editing work for her. “VidCon,” Jemma whispered.

“Finally!” Skye whispered back.

“Jemma? You in?”

“What? Oh, sorry, Phil! Yes, I’ll have to double check my calendar but I think I can do it.”

“Perfect. I’ll email you all the details later tonight.” Jemma heard the shuffling of papers on the other end of the line, and after a pause, Phil continued. “Listen, Jemma, gotta run. I’m glad you’ll be representing us! We’ll try and get you on a panel or two. I know you’ll do great.”

“Thank you, Phil. I really appreciate it.” She was about to say goodbye when a thought occurred to her. “Oh, wait, Phil. You said they had two spots open.”

“That’s right.”

“So who else are you sending?”

“Who do you think? The only show on the channel that does as well as the Skeptic Kitchen is--”

“Not--”

“GameboyPro. Leo Fitz’ll be there with you.”

“But--”

“Don’t worry, Jem. I’ll make sure you two are put together in the signing hall. SciTech’s gotta stick together, right?”

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “I suppose.” After promising Phil that she was eating well-- he was always asking after her eating habits, and threatening to brave LA traffic to bring her kale if she wasn’t healthy enough-- they said their goodbyes and she set the phone back on the counter, grimacing at Skye.

“So…”

Jemma sighed. “The good news is, I’ll be a featured creator at VidCon like we originally expected.”

“Yay!” Skye held up her fists in triumph.

“The bad news is that I might be a little bit… riled up during the Con.”

Skye’s smile dropped. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

She was finally going to meet Leo Fitz in person. And somehow, she was going to have to avoid starting off introductions with how odd and insipid she found his show to be.

She was definitely going to have her work cut out for her.

\---

_Ugh_. Perhaps she should have packed lighter, Jemma thought to herself as she juggled her roller suitcase, navy duffle bag and oversized tote. The event only lasted the weekend, after all.

But it was her first time as an _invited guest_ at a _convention_. It was all a bit thrilling, and she just wanted to put her best face forward for her fans. And if that meant dragging half her closet down to Anaheim, then so be it.

“Checking in?” The woman at the front desk smiled brightly, and Jemma nodded, pulling the folded confirmation email out of her back pocket.

“Yes, thank you. It should be under Simmons?”

The front desk clerk typed away, and Jemma took a moment to take a look around the lobby. VidCon was being held in a fairly nice hotel, so that was a perk. Her gaze drifted from the sleek design of the entryway… over to the modern metal sculpture in the middle of the open space… over to the cluster of black leather couches across the way… back to the front desk, where she was suddenly met with a pair of blue eyes and an awkward smile.

“Hi,” the man standing beside her said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “You’re Jemma Simmons, aren’t you?”

 _Be polite, Jemma_ , she told herself, before reaching out her hand toward him. “I am. And you must be Leo Fitz.” He stared at her hand for a beat before shaking it.

“Yeah, but just Fitz is fine,” he said.

“Are you excited for this weekend?” she asked after several seconds of silence passed.

He nodded as he pulled up his hotel confirmation on his phone and showed it to the front desk agent. “Yeah, been looking forward to it since Phil called last month.” As the employee searched for his reservation, he turned back to Jemma. “It’s, uh, nice to finally meet you. Put a face to a name.” He grimaced. “I mean, I already knew what your face looked like, from your videos, but… you know what I mean.”

Jemma chuckled. “Your face is the unfamiliar one.” She took the room key the front desk clerk held out to her with a grin of thanks, pulling her tote higher on her shoulder and turning to fully face Fitz. He scratched lightly at the side of his jaw, looking a little bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Alright, Mr. Fitz, here’s your key card,” said the staff member across the desk from him, and he took it from her with a nod.

“Actually,” he said to Jemma. “How did you know it was me, anyway?”

She opened her mouth without quite knowing what she was going to say, and was unwilling to admit to having Googled him, so she was thankful when they were interrupted by a tap on Jemma’s shoulder.

An older blonde woman stood there with a polite smile on her face. A bored-looking man in khaki shorts and a Polo shirt stood behind her. “Excuse me--” The woman craned her neck around to face the other side of the lobby, shouting, “Jessalyn, come here! It’s those YouTube people you never turn off!”

Jemma felt a tiny swell of pride-- it wasn’t all that often she was recognized, though she supposed it might happen more than usual at an event like this one. She grinned at the woman, and at the young girl who meandered across the lobby, eyes trained on her cell phone.

“I knew I recognized you from something but wasn’t sure what. You must be the one who does all those videos about video games, right?” the woman said to Jemma. “I don’t really like Jessalyn playing video games, but she sure loves those videos. Always going over her data plan.”

“Oh, no, I’m not--”

“And I’m sorry, I don’t know which video tuber you are,” the woman said, turning to Fitz. “I just noticed your badge, so figured you were one of ‘em, too.”

“Jessa watches some cooking video show, doesn’t she, babe?” the man-- presumably Jessalyn’s father-- chimed in. “Maybe he cooks.”

“No, I _definitely_ don’t--” said Fitz.

“You’ve got us mixed up, I’m afraid,” Jemma interrupted. “I do the Skeptic Kitchen videos, which are much more than cooking videos--”

“--and you probably don’t recognize me because I actually do the video game show, and I stick to voice narration--”

“--while I find it very important to communicate with my viewers in a face-to-face manner--”

“--and trust me, you would _never_ see me making cooking videos.”

Jemma huffed at that, adjusting the strap of her tote bag again. “What, exactly, is wrong with cooking videos? _Not_ that my videos are solely about cooking. Or even really about cooking at all, when you get down to it. They’re _scientific exploration_ videos.”

“Nothing’s wrong with ‘em!” He bristled. “But what’s so wrong with not appearing in my videos?”

She widened her eyes at him. _What was so wrong with it? It only_ defeated the purpose! “I could answer that, but we’d be here all day.”

“The focus should be on my salient scientific points, not on my _face_.”

Jemma rolled her eyes-- she just couldn’t help it. “If only said points always _were_ salient.”

“Oh, as if you’ve never made a hasty hypothesis and posted a video before checking to verify it?”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t. The whole point of my show is to verify hypotheses.”

“Look, I’m not--”

“Ugh!” said a young voice, and Jemma and Fitz both turned in unison to see the girl Jemma assumed was Jessalyn standing in front of them, a stricken look on her face. “Mom, Dad, you’re so _embarrassing_!” she shrieked, before turning and running out of the lobby. The blonde woman and the bored man smiled apologetically before following Jessalyn out. Jemma turned back to face Fitz, whose face was tinged pink-- whether from their little debate, or from the teenager’s outburst, she couldn’t be sure.

“Um… so that was--” he began, at the same time she said, “Perhaps we shouldn’t have--”

They both chuckled awkwardly, and Jemma cleared her throat. “I suppose we’re not here to alienate fans and their families, are we?”

“No, definitely not.”

“So perhaps we should… table this discussion, for now.”

“Good idea.” He gripped the handle of his roller suitcase, turning to leave with a nod. Jemma thought briefly about waiting until he’d gotten in an elevator before heading to her room, but in the end, decided to walk beside him through the lobby. Just because he was aggravating didn’t mean they couldn’t share a small space with each other, did it?

They waited at the bank of elevators in thick silence, Fitz fidgeting with his VidCon creator badge the whole time. Finally, one arrived, and they got on. He kept playing with his badge all the way up, then flipped it over as they reached her floor.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Fitz,” she said, pulling her suitcase behind her as she exited the car.

“Bright and early tomorrow morning,” he said, holding up the reverse side of his badge, which had a printed map of the convention hall. “Your signing table’s right next to mine.”

 _Phil, you shouldn’t have_ , Jemma thought, before smiling tightly at him. “See you in the morning!” He watched her as the elevator doors closed, managing an awkward smile just before he disappeared from her view.

As she walked down the hallway toward her room, thinking about how she’d just argued in a public place with someone who was essentially a complete stranger to her, she wondered if perhaps Skye had been right after all. Maybe GameboyPro really _did_ rile her up.

\---

 

This lovely and adorable manip made by the lovely and adorable [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/):  
  



	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, Jemma didn’t have to wait for morning to run into Fitz again-- much to her chagrin. That evening, after settling into her hotel room, she popped down to the Asian fusion restaurant in the lobby for dinner and a glass of wine. The restaurant wasn’t terribly crowded-- she assumed many VidCon attendees would check in on the morning of the first day, rather than the afternoon before-- and she sat at a small table along the wall, facing the sushi bar.

It was a lovely, relaxing meal before what she was sure would be buzzing chaos tomorrow, she thought as she sipped her sauvignon blanc.

Until she heard the scraping of a chair right behind her and a distinctly Scottish voice saying hello.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder-- as she’d suspected, it was Leo Fitz, turned sideways in the chair directly behind hers so he could smirk at her. Jemma gave him a tight-lipped smile and a quick wave before turning back to face front. She took another long sip of her wine.

“Enjoying yourself so far?” he asked, apparently unwilling to let a polite wave be enough. She twisted in her chair so she could get a better look at him.

“Technically there’s nothing to be enjoying yet, as the convention doesn’t start until tomorrow,” she responded, even though she knew she was being a little argumentative for no good reason. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she relented. “But yes, I was quite enjoying my meal, thank you.”

Swinging his legs out so he sat fully sideways in his chair with his back leaning against the wall, he flipped open his menu. “Sushi good here?”

“My dragon roll was quite good, yes.”

Jemma felt tempted to turn back to her food and wine, but it seemed rude to do so when he was still sitting in such a way to allow a conversation. After a moment of hesitation, she shifted in her seat, too, crossing her legs out to the side and leaning her arm along the chairback. With the other hand, she picked up a stray edamame with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth.

When the waiter came over to greet Fitz, he ordered a Japanese beer and more sushi rolls than Jemma thought one person ought to eat by themselves. She couldn’t help but chuckle at him. “Hungry?”

“Sure,” he said, taking a drink from the water glass the waiter had dropped off and looking at her like she had said something absurd. “‘S why I’m in a restaurant.”

Jemma ate a few more edamame, then one of the remaining pieces of her sushi roll, as they sat in silence. The waiter brought Fitz his beer, then the first of several rolls. The silence wasn’t exactly _awkward_ , Jemma thought, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable, either. Just as she was about to turn around to face forward again, he spoke up.

“Y’know, I’ve always wished I could cook.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, setting down her wine glass. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’m sort of a disaster in the kitchen. I blew up the microwave in my old apartment trying to heat up a burrito once.”

Jemma laughed. “Let me guess-- aluminum foil?”

“How’d you know?” He at least had the good sense to look sheepish about that one, and she smiled. The waiter passed by then, and when he gave her a questioning look, she gestured for another glass of wine. After all, it was only 8 o’clock, and it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do.

“You know, I never thought I’d _need_ to do an episode on what would or would not make a microwave explode, but I suppose I could work one into my content calendar.”

“Well it’s not as if I didn’t _know_ that that’s what happens when you put foil in the microwave,” Fitz said defensively, stretching his legs out in front of him, heels resting on the ground. He thumbed at the label on the beer bottle he held in his lap and smiled self-deprecatingly. “Sometimes I just get caught up in whatever I’m working on, a game or a video or something else, and forget to pay attention to what I’m doing.”

She almost laughed at the image of Fitz, still yelling into his gaming headset before a minor explosion coming from the microwave startled him. She smiled wryly at him. “I’ve never actually played one of the video games from your show,” she said. “So I can’t say if I’m any good at them.” She couldn’t resist but adding in, “Always seemed a bit boring to me.”

“Boring!” He sat up straighter in his seat, turning his torso so he faced her head-on. “I’ll have you know that 102,000 people didn’t seem to think my last video was boring. You know, people actually find my videos _fascinating_.”

“I didn’t say your _videos_ weren’t interesting. Though, I mean, they’ve never quite been to _my_ tastes. But all I’m saying is that I don’t necessarily find video games _themselves_ to be that appealing. And not to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, twisting in her chair with both hands on the back of it and grinning at him smugly. “But my last video has about 2,000 more views than that. And counting.”

Fitz gaped at her for a moment, brows knitting together grumpily. “Well, I didn’t say that was my _most_ viewed video.”

“I didn’t say that was mine, either.” An amused smile graced her lips as she watched him search for a comeback to that, before he finally sighed and shook his head at her with a glare that she’d almost call playful.

“No need to bicker over petty things like viewcounts, Jemma,” he said in an admonishing tone.

“I would never,” she retorted, reaching back for her wine with raised eyebrows. “I was merely pointing out that--”

“--don’t say it.”

“--that I’m _technically_ the most popular content creator on the SciTech channel.”

“Yeah, today, maybe. But I was on top of you last week.” His eyes widened and his cheeks went a little pink as soon as the words left his mouth. “I mean-- that didn’t--I wasn’t--”

“I know what you meant,” she said, putting him out of his misery. No wonder he didn’t appear in his videos, she thought, if he blushed like that every time he misspoke or made an accidental innuendo. “We’ve been passing the title of top creator on the channel back and forth for basically the whole time we’ve been making videos.”

He took a sip of his beer and nodded. She finished her glass of wine. A few moments of silence passed, in which the waiter dropped off both of their checks, before either of them spoke again.

“Better us than the Koenigs, yeah?” he said with a shrug.

“Oh, most definitely. We don’t need a dozen odd siblings to produce quality videos.”

“No, we definitely do not.”

She gathered up her purse once she’d paid, and stood by his table looking down at him. “Well. See you tomorrow at our signing booth.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something else, but then nodded. “See you in the morning for real this time.”

Jemma waved back at him before heading out of the restaurant toward the hotel lobby, thinking that dinner had been slightly more interesting than she’d originally anticipated.

But only slightly.

 

\---

 

Morning came quickly, as did their first scheduled signing time. As Phil had promised, the pair of SciTech tables were set up right beside each other, midway through the exhibition hall.

The first couple of hours had brought them a flurry of excited fans, and as Jemma had predicted, had been a bit chaotic. It wasn’t until partway through the morning that she felt like she’d gotten into a comfortable groove of greeting attendees, signing her autograph and sniping back and forth with Fitz.

“Honestly,” Jemma said, scooting her chair a bit closer to the right side of her table in between autographs. It was only so Fitz could _hear_ her condemnation, of course. “It’s not that I think your videos aren’t _good_. It’s just hard to take your scientific assertions seriously when they’re just things you say while shooting at random bad guys on screen. I think you’d be much more successful if you just _connected_ with your fans a bit more.”

“Oh, like you do, you mean?” She heard rather than saw the scraping of his chair against the floor, dragging him closer to her.

“Of course!” She turned her attention more fully to the teenaged girl standing in front of her, practically vibrating with excitement. “Well, hello there! Who shall I make it out to?”

“Dana!”

Jemma gave the girl a warm smile, uncapping her silver Sharpie. “Dana, that’s a pretty name. I had a goldfish named Dana once. After Dana Scully. She died after about two weeks, so my mum got me another.” She signed her name with a flourish beneath the printed words, ‘To Dana-- Best wishes!’, then met the girl’s bright eyes. “I named him Mulder, of course. Or possibly her.” She wrinkled her nose. “You never can tell with goldfish, can you?”

Dana’s smile didn’t falter as she took the printed 8x10 back from Jemma, shaking her head cheerfully. “Who’s Mulder?” Dana asked over her shoulder, as her mum nudged her along toward the exit.

_Goodness, these kids are young_. Jemma shook her head and capped her pen. When she glanced to her right, she saw Fitz gaping at her in spite of the waiting fan standing at the front of his table.

“Who’s Mulder? _Who’s Mulder_?”

She allowed a small smile. She should have known that the cocky and charismatic FBI agent would appeal to Fitz the same way the brilliant, skeptical and impeccably-coiffed (at least, in the later seasons) FBI agent did to her. Not that Fitz had much of anything in common with Fox Mulder. Jemma was certain that she would _never_ have had a poster of _Leo Fitz_ hanging inside her bedroom closet where her parents wouldn’t find it. “I know. They are quite young, aren’t they?”

“That makes me feel old, and we’re only 27!”

“I’m still 26, actually,” Jemma said, gesturing to herself. “My birthday is 23 days after yours.”

The girl standing in front of Fitz’s table cleared her throat, and he turned his attention to her long enough to inquire her name and scribble out his incorrigible excuse for a signature before turning back to Jemma. “Wait a tick. Just how do you know when my birthday is?”

Jemma felt her cheeks warm, and busied herself with the glossy photo in front of her. ‘To Eric-- Stay scientific! x Jemma.’

“Jemma Simmons,” Fitz said.

“What?” She refused to look at him, even though there was a break in her line. She began to doodle on her convention schedule printout with the silver marker-- little stars and moons in the upper righthand corner.

“Did you _Wikipedia me_?”

Jemma pressed her mouth together in a tight line, pen stilling on the paper. She shook her head insistently, but she’d always been terrible at lying. It was something Skye always said made her videos so great-- she was authentic.

“You did!”

“Ugh, fine!” She turned her body in her chair to face him with a glare. “I did. I was only wondering what in someone’s background would make them think everyone needed to hear their opinions so badly.”

He scoffed at her, leaning toward her until he was almost out of his chair entirely. “We’re on _YouTube_. _Everyone here_ thinks everyone needs to hear their opinions. Yourself included.”

She wanted to argue with that, but a small part of her protested, the part that took pride in seeing gifs of her videos on Tumblr or in reading the posts that filled the subreddit where people discussed her recipes. Fine. She’d just need to take a different tack. “At least my opinions aren’t completely _obnoxious_.”

“No, just incredibly smug.”

“Smug! Says the man who’s constantly asserting he could do better than today’s top video game designers!”

“I could do better! If I were a game developer! Which I’m not. It’s not my fault I studied much more challenging scientific disciplines in school. Making me uniquely equipped to offer physics-based critiques of said games, mind you.”

That was rich, coming from someone who still spent most of his afternoons playing video games. She felt amped up all over, energized, like she could argue with Fitz like this all day. She opened her mouth to make another unassailable point, when she was interrupted by a slim young man in a bright teal t-shirt emblazoned “VIDCON STAFF.”

“Hey, guys?” He held a clipboard in one hand, his gaze flitting between Fitz and Jemma. She looked up at him attentively as Fitz grunted. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, we’ve gotten some complaints? About, um. About you guys?”

The man’s sentences all seemed to end up, like everything was a question. Jemma furrowed her brow. “About us?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry. It’s just that, I was told to come over here and tell you guys that you’ve gotta keep the line moving? Apparently somebody complained that they waited in line for half an hour just to watch you two flirt, and never got their t-shirt signed?”

Flirt? Her? With Fitz? Now, that was simply ludicrous. “Sir--”

The man laughed breathily. “Call me Gabe.”

“Gabe-- we were _not_ flirting.”

“Yeah,” Fitz chimed in. “I think I’d know if I were flirting with a girl, don’t you?”

Jemma couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Please, as if you’d know _how_.”

“I’ll have you know--”

“Guys, guys, sorry, sorry.” Gabe shrugged, clipboard held aloft. “It’s totally fine if you were flirting, just-- maybe finish up with your lines first?”

“But we weren’t--” Fitz began, but Jemma knew there was no point in arguing. Gabe was right-- they had been neglecting their fans in favor of sniping at each other-- however invigorating it may have been, that wasn’t fair.

“Thank you, Gabe. We’ll get on with it.”

“Thanksyousomuch,” he breathed out as one word. With one quick glance at either of them, he backed away quickly, but not before muttering a quiet, “I’m a huge fan?” in their direction.

Once he disappeared, Jemma turned to face forward in her chair, ignoring Fitz’s incredulous eyes on her.

“I wasn’t--”

“I know, Fitz.”

“I didn’t--”

“I know, nor did I. But he’s right.” She beckoned the next person in line, a woman who looked to be about her age-- finally someone who might fully appreciate the science fiction and fantasy shows of the ‘90s that she’d grown up with (someone besides Fitz, of course).

“But we--”

“Fitz?” She stole one last glance at him. “Sign your name.” He stared, mouth moving soundlessly for a moment, before inviting the next guest in his line forward. As she signed her silver signature on the photo the woman-- Becky, she’d told her-- handed her, she couldn’t help but get the last word. “As if anyone could read it.”

“Hey!”

But Jemma had diverted her full attention to Becky, as well as the not-insignificant line of fans behind her. The fans were why she was there. She couldn’t let anyone-- not even someone as interesting to talk to (in an entirely masochistic way) as Fitz-- distract her from that fact.

 

\---

 

Jemma looked at her watch. 3:15-- just in time. She’d stayed longer at her signing table than the schedule required to finish greeting all the fans in her line, but she’d really hoped to make it to the 3:20 p.m. panel discussion on developing content suitable for a changing digital landscape. Some of her favorite video producers, along with a pair of YouTube execs, were panelists, and it sounded like it might be incredibly informative.

“The room’s full,” said the volunteer at the door to Ballroom A, his eyes trained on a clipboard. When he looked up, he raised his eyebrows at her. “But you’re a featured creator, aren’t you?”

She held up her badge, a hopeful smile on her face. He opened the door to the ballroom and gestured inside.

“Go on in. There aren’t any seats available, but there are a couple other creators watching from backstage. Just follow the side of the room and pop through those last doors, and you’ll be able to see the panel from the wings.”

Jemma nodded her thanks, then followed his instructions. Once she slipped through the back doors, she saw that she was in a backstage area much like at a theater, and a handful of others were standing in groups of two or three to watch the panel. She eased the door shut behind her and walked closer to the stage, finding an empty alcove from which she had a good vantage point.

Moments later, just as the panelists were being introduced by the moderator, she heard a cough from behind her and turned her head to see Fitz standing there, eyebrows raised.

“Here to watch the panel?” he asked, moving to stand beside her. She diverted her attention to the stage, leaning ever so slightly toward him to whisper her answer.

“Obviously. What are you doing here?”

“Watching the panel, too. Obviously.” She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking at her. Of course.

“Well… I suppose you can stand here and watch with me,” she whispered. “Just be quiet.”

He chuckled under his breath, leaning a bit closer to her. “You’re the one who keeps talking to me.”

“Oh, please!” She scoffed at him, crossing her arms. “You’re the one who came in here after me. For all I know, you followed me in from the hallway.”

“Actually,” he said, his voice sounding even closer this time, right next to her ear. “I was already in here, over on the other side. Just figured I’d come say hello when I saw you come in. For all I know, _you’re_ the one who followed _me_.”

“I did no such thing!” She realized that that may have come out a bit too loud, and lowered her voice. “I’m here to learn.”

“Me too.”

“Perfect.”

“Good.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, diverting her attention to the panel on stage as soon as she realized he was already looking at her. They watched the rest of the panel in silence, and it was only as the ballroom erupted into applause at the end that Jemma realized just how close they’d been standing all along.

She took a step to her right, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Well, that was fascinating, I thought.”

“It was,” he said with a nod. He reached down into the pocket of his badge-holder and pulled out his phone, pressing “stop” on the recording he’d apparently been taking. When he noticed her watching him, he shrugged. “It’s easier for me to take notes later, when I can listen without any distractions.”

Jemma was surprised-- both that he apparently cared enough about improving his videos and the channel at large to take notes, and that she hadn’t thought to do that herself.

He leaned in so that his face was right by her ear again. “I can email you my notes later, if you want.”

“That would be really nice, actually.”

Fitz smiled, and-- was that a wink? And then he turned and walked away without a backward glance, leaving Jemma alone to process all the innovative ideas the panelists had shared, as well as the fact that she suddenly found Fitz to be just the tiniest bit more appealing-- as a colleague, of course--  than she had before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the last chapter on Tuesday! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The Creator Happy Hour on the final full evening of VidCon, Jemma had been told, was a convention tradition. She wandered into the expansive hotel bar just a few minutes after the scheduled start time, but the party already seemed to be in full swing.

“Hey, Skeptic Kitchen, right?” said an impeccably dressed man with glasses as he brushed by her on his way to the bar. Jemma smiled warmly at him, nodding.

“That’s right!”

“Cool show. _Loved_ the episode on the reverse sear.”

Jemma laughed. “Well, you can’t go wrong with the perfect steak, can you?”

The man raised his glass to that, then rattled the ice cubes within and continued to the bar. Jemma felt the warm glow of recognition as she moved through the groups of people that filled the bar area. She loved hearing that people enjoyed the videos she made-- it was the most rewarding part of the whole process.

Once at the bar, she ordered one of the signature cocktails-- the Vid-ka Tonic-- and took a sip as she scanned the room for anyone she knew. She’d met a few other creators throughout the weekend, but hadn’t made plans to see anyone in particular at the happy hour.

“Fancy running into you here,” came a voice beside her. She quickly turned to see Fitz leaning back against the bar next to her, sipping a beer. She couldn’t help but smile. After all, it was nice to see a familiar face, and they’d had opposite schedules all day, one on a panel while the other signed autographs and vice versa.

“Well, I hear this is quite the place to be,” she said, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Yeah, this party seems like a pretty big deal. There are some guys from HydraNet trying to talk the bartender into letting them do keg stands behind the bar.” He tilted his head toward the second bar over on the far side of the room, where she could just make out a tall, dark-haired man frowning at a bartender who was clearly done with his shit.

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “You know, as fun as that sounds…”

“Want to grab a seat somewhere? Somewhere a bit quieter?” he asked, and she nodded gratefully.

Jemma followed him to where a cushioned bench sat against the wall with a row of tiny tables in front of it. The table in the corner was the only open one, so they took a seat at it, side by side along the wall.

“This is your first VidCon, right? How has it been for you?” asked Fitz.

“It’s been lovely,” she said, then frowned. “But it’s your first one, too, right? You weren’t here last year?”

He shook his head. “I had just started my show at this time last year. I don’t even think I had ten viewers yet, let alone enough to rate on the convention’s radar.”

“Me either,” she said. “I suppose it’s a good thing this year has been so kind to us both.”

“Yes, it has,” he murmured. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his for a moment. Her heart sped up and she didn’t know why.

“You know,” she said, just to have something to say. “I started putting out videos only a month before you did. According to your Wikipedia page, at least.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “A month?”

“Well,” she equivocated. “Three weeks.”

“Sounds more accurate,” he said, his lips quirking up into a smile.

“Sounds like it makes sense that we’re here together,” she said, wishing she could bite back the words even as she said them. “That SciTech sent us both, I mean.”

He watched her carefully, and after a long moment of charged silence, scooted just a bit closer on the plush cushioned booth and leaned forward with his drink resting on his knee. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, not quite so close to her ear that she could feel his breath on her neck, but she shivered anyway.

“Of course,” she said.

He paused. “Gabe may have been right yesterday. I may have been flirting with you.”

Jemma pulled back enough so that she could look him in the eyes, and noticed that his still burned bright blue even in the dim light of the bar. She licked her lips, sucking in a short breath. Just as she opened her mouth, about to say something-- though she wasn’t entirely sure _what_ \-- someone plopped down on the seat beside Fitz, effectively diffusing the moment.

“Fitz, can we agree that relationships just aren’t worth the trouble?” said the scruffy, dark-haired man, clutching a beer in one hand and propping his foot up on the small table in front of them. Jemma frowned at his behavior.

“Uh... Hunter, this is, um--” Fitz looked from the man-- Hunter, apparently-- to Jemma and then back to Hunter. “Not the best time,” he said, quieter.

Hunter leaned forward, seeming to notice Jemma for the first time. “Sorry, mate. Lance Hunter,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She shook it and introduced herself. “You make those videos where you get drunk and rant about random things that irritate you, don’t you?”

“Those are the ones.” He turned his attention right back to Fitz. “Fitz, it’s your duty as a fellow bro to come have a beer with me and Mack in my time of need.”

“Well, actually, Jemma and I were just--”

“Sorry, mate, I don’t make the rules.” Hunter stood and hauled Fitz up by his arm. “I’ll make sure he gets back to you in good shape,” he said over his shoulder to Jemma as he began to lead Fitz away.

Fitz, for his part, didn’t appear to be pleased about it. He shot Jemma an apologetic look, mouthing, “Just one beer,” as he was dragged away. She just smiled and tipped her glass at him-- he had every right to have a drink with his friends, of course. And anyway, she had no idea what she’d been about to say to him before they’d been interrupted.

During the rest of the happy hour, Jemma mingled with several of the creators she’d met throughout the weekend (including Bobbi Morse, who she’d shared the stage with for a panel on sexism in the online video community earlier that day, who incidentally turned out to be the cause of Hunter’s relationship woes). She locked eyes with Fitz many times, but neither of them managed to slip away from their respective conversations long enough to speak to each other again.

She looked for him on her way out of the bar, but couldn’t spot him-- because it was so packed, or perhaps because Hunter had dragged him to an after-party-- and she tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest on her way back to her room.

 

\---

 

Jemma still felt a buzz from the happy hour-- which to be fair, had turned into a happy _several_ hours-- when she slid her key card into its slot in her door. She fumbled it a couple of times, flipping it over, then over again, before it blinked green and she was able to enter the room.

Overall, she felt like the day had been a success. If she was honest with herself, though, that was as much because she’d had so many rewarding conversations with fans and fellow creators as it was because Fitz had admitted he had been flirting with her.

She smiled to herself, feeling a little smug. Definitely a good day.

She toed off her shoes and  shrugged out of her cardigan, letting it fall on top of her suitcase, then flopped backwards onto the bed. But what did it _mean_ that Fitz was flirting with her? And the real question: had she been flirting with him back? Jemma wished Skye could have come along to help her sort things out-- though she could hear Skye’s voice in her head already, saying, “He only riles you up, Jemma. Ew, you can’t flirt with him.”

Jemma sighed, letting her hand fall back so her wrist blocked the soft light that filled the hotel room from her eyes. Then she heard a knock at the door.

Flummoxed, she furrowed her brow and waited for a moment before sitting up straight.

“Room service!” called a muffled voice.

But Jemma hadn’t ordered any room service. She padded to the door and peeked through the peephole to see a young man in a starched hotel uniform standing there with a tray. She pulled the door open.

“Room service,” he said again, softer this time.

“I’m afraid I didn’t order anything. Are you sure you have the right room?”

The young man pulled an order slip out of his pocket and consulted it. “Hmm. Jemma Simmons, room 2418?”

“That’s me. Yes.”

“Then this is for you.” He held out the silver tray, topped by a silver domed cover that reminded Jemma of a cartoon, and she took it. “Just leave the empty tray outside your room whenever you’re finished with it.”

“Oh. Alright.” She stood there for a moment, holding the tray and wondering what could be in it, before realizing she should probably tip the man. “Oh!” She fished in her jeans pocket for a couple of dollars and held them out to him. He nodded his thanks and disappeared down the hall, leaving her alone with room service she hadn’t ordered.

Once he was gone, she shut the door and retreated into her room. She set the silver tray on her dresser and stared at it for a long moment. _It’s not poison or something, is it?_ She didn’t _think_ she was well-known enough to be bombed, or poisoned, or anything of the like, but one could never be too sure. Finally, she got up the nerve to grasp the knob atop the silver dome and yank it up, revealing the contents of the tray.

One lone chocolate cupcake. With sprinkles. And an unlit candle.

Beside the cupcake was a lighter and a note. She pulled out the note first, unfolding it and beginning to read.

_Jemma,_

_I know I won’t see you on Monday, since the Con will be over, so happy early birthday._

_-Fitz_

She felt her heart do gymnastics in her chest for a moment-- not because it had been so challenging for him to calculate the date 23 days after his own birthday, but because he’d thought to do so to begin with, and had taken the time to send her something so thoughtful. It certainly wasn’t something she ever would have expected out of the impatient game reviewer before the weekend had begun.

Jemma grabbed her phone from where it lay on her bed, but then realized she didn’t have FItz’s number to text him-- nor did she know his room number, or any other way of contacting him besides through the channel. Even the channel-wide emails she’d received had been bcc’d, so she couldn’t even email him to say thank you. She supposed it would have to wait until the next morning, when they were once again at adjacent signing tables for the last autograph session of the convention.

Nevertheless, she smiled to herself, picking up the cupcake and the little Bic lighter and flicking it a few times until the candle lit. A warm feeling spread throughout her as she blew out the flame. Who didn’t enjoy starting their birthday early, after all?

And if the early birthday well-wishes came from an unexpected-- though not entirely unwelcome-- source, then all the better.

He’d surprised her quite a few times over the course of the weekend, she thought to herself, taking a bite of cupcake. It seemed that she’d possibly, maybe, perhaps misjudged him. Just a bit. She wiped a stray bit of icing from her upper lip and smiled as she thought of how surprisingly smart and funny he’d turned out to be, how much they’d ended up having in common. She could even see herself being friends with him in the future. _Or more than that_ , a voice whispered in the back of her mind.

The thought nearly made her drop her cupcake. _Fitz_? And _her_?

The more she thought about it, though, the more she thought about his blue eyes blazing in the dim light of the bar, and his smile across their signing tables, the more it made sense. She felt pleasantly warm as she swallowed the last bite of cake, licking icing and sprinkles from the tip of her thumb.

Fitz. And her.

She reached for her phone, excited to tell someone how she felt, but she still had no way of reaching Fitz, and it was too late in the evening to call Skye. She set her phone down with a sigh, beginning her bedtime routine with a smile that wouldn’t quite go away.

Late that night, Jemma curled up in the plush hotel bed with her laptop, scrolling through her notification feed and responding to the few comments she’d missed during the day. Her cursor hovered over the SciTech channel menu for a few hesitant moments, before she clicked on GameboyPro’s playlist. She had a sudden urge to give his videos a second chance.

She drifted to sleep to the sound of video game sound effects and a voice with a Scottish lilt making scientific observations that, she had to admit, really weren’t that off-base.

 

\--

 

Jemma woke up with her laptop still open on the bed beside her. She pushed it away with a yawn and craned her neck to either side to work out the kinks from sleeping like that. As she grew more awake, she slowly remembered the events of the previous night-- the maybe-one-too-many cocktails with Bobbi and her friends, the room service cupcake, and finally, her realization that she’d most definitely been flirting with Fitz.

Warm relief filled Jemma’s chest as she stretched out on the large bed with a grin. Maybe she’d tell him that today. No. She would _definitely_ tell him that today. And she was actually looking forward to doing so.

She sped through her morning routine, but fluffed her hair a little bit more than usual and pawed through her purse for her favorite lip gloss. She wanted to look nice for her last signing of the weekend, of course (and if she looked particularly fetching when she thanked Fitz for his sweet gesture, then all the better).

After grabbing a blueberry muffin at the hotel’s continental breakfast, Jemma was in the signing hall and at her table before it even opened to attendees. Fitz, of course, hadn’t made it downstairs yet.

At 9 a.m., the VidCon staff opened the doors to fans.

By 9:15, Jemma had signed a dozen autographs, glancing at the empty table beside her between each one.

By 9:30, she was beginning to worry-- had Hunter gotten Fitz so drunk the night before that he couldn’t get up on time this morning? If so, when had he had a chance to send her the cupcake?

It was nearly 10 a.m. when Jemma snapped. After signing “ _Dear Hannahbelle, Stay skeptical! Love, Jemma x_ ” to a young fan, she reached over and slid the piece of paper from the middle of Fitz’s empty table to where she could read it-- his conference schedule.

On Sunday morning, the last day of the event, it only had one item: “HOTEL CHECKOUT: 10 a.m.”

“Oh, no,” she said softly, brow furrowed at the paper. “He’s not scheduled today at all.”

“Right?” said the young woman at the front of Jemma’s line. “I thought I was going to be able to get selfies with both of you today! I’m like, so mad.”

Jemma tore her eyes away from the piece of paper to look at the woman, then peered behind her at the rest of the line. For the most part, they looked polite, eager-- and understanding. Jemma bit her lip and glanced at her watch, thoughts warring in her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, though, she let out a breath, snatched up her trusty Sharpie, and scrawled “ _Be back in 15_ ” on the back of Fitz’s schedule. She set the paper in the middle of her table, and with an apologetic smile to her line, dashed for the door of the ballroom.

She skidded into the lobby of the hotel just in time to see Fitz with his bag slung over his shoulder, signing a piece of paper at the front desk with his back to her. She slowed, worrying her hands in front of her as she approached him. After all, she’d never quite figured out exactly what she wanted to say.

And then he turned around. His eyes widened when he saw her standing there, a few feet away, though she noticed the beginnings of a smile. He didn’t say anything, just took a few steps closer to her.

“You weren’t at your table,” she said, which wasn’t nearly close to any of the things she’d considered telling him.

“No. I told Coulson when he asked me to come. It’s my cousin’s anniversary party tonight, and I have to get home in time for it.”

“Oh,” was all she said. They’d drifted closer together as they spoke, and he let his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the marble floor beside him.

“Yeah. I’ve got to drive back to LA now to help my family get ready for it.”

Jemma pressed her lips together. She only had a few minutes to get back to her booth. “Thank you. For the cupcake. That was very sweet of you.”

Fitz cast his eyes downward, a small smile forming on his face. “You’re welcome. Ah, I hope you have a nice birthday tomorrow.”

She grinned at him, and he looked up to meet her gaze. “I hope so, too,” she said. His eyes were so bright, so fond, that she couldn’t help but step a little closer to him as she sucked in a breath and made an admission of her own. “I was flirting with you, too,” she said softly. Fitz’s smile grew, and he opened his mouth to say something, when they were interrupted-- again.

“Oh my god, are they about to kiss each other?” said an excited young voice a bit to their left. They both looked over to see a gaggle of four young girls watching their interaction, and it was only then that Jemma realized just how close they were standing to each other-- mere inches apart.

When she met Fitz’s eyes again, they were wide and uncertain. But she didn’t feel uncertain at all. With one more look at the group of teenagers out of the corner of her eye, she took another step forward into his space, reached up a hand to slide along his jaw, and pulled his lips down to meet hers.

His lips were soft, and he stiffened when she kissed him but quickly gathered his wits about him and began to kiss her back in earnest. He slipped a hand into her hair just behind her ear, his other gripping her waist, holding her close as her lips danced with his, her tongue sliding along his own as the kiss deepened. She kissed him until she felt too breathless to keep on, then gently pulled back, resting her forehead against his for the slightest of seconds.

You simply have to give the fans what they want, after all, she thought, as her gaze slid to the four young girls stricken with excitement nearby. That was the only reason she’d done it, of course.

Perhaps.

She met his eyes again. Or perhaps what she needed was more thorough testing. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pressed her lips to his again, smiling into the kiss this time. He pulled her even closer still with both hands at the small of her back.

“Um?”

Jemma ignored the voice, sliding her hand down to press gently against Fitz’s chest.

“Ahem?” the voice cleared its throat. Jemma continued to ignore it, though Fitz stilled just a bit.

“Sorry to interrupt?” the voice said, and even through the haze of kissing Fitz, Jemma recognized it as belonging to Gabe, the frazzled VidCon staff member. “But you’re not really allowed to abandon your table to make out? Again, I’m really, really sorry.”

Letting out a breath through her nose, Jemma finally pulled away from Fitz, who she thought she heard whimper softly at the loss of contact, though she couldn’t be sure. She forced her attention to Gabe, brows raised. He looked, frankly, terrified.

“It’s just, maybe you could do this another time? Like, after the conference is over? I’msosorry,” he said, the last words coming out all in one breath. Reluctantly, Jemma drew back from Fitz’s embrace, a smile that wouldn’t go away playing at her lips.

When she headed back to her signing table a few minutes later, she felt more invigorated than she had after even the most fascinating argument with Fitz, her iPhone with his contact info now in it burning a hole in her back pocket.

 

\---

 

_Three Weeks Later_

“So that’s it, Skeptics! Can you open a bottle of wine with only a sturdy wall and your trusty shoe?” Jemma grinned at the camera, and at Skye who stood behind it. She sipped from the glass of pinot noir she’d just poured, then held it up in a toast. Before she could get out her catchphrase, though, the door to her bedroom opened behind her, and a bleary-eyed, disheveled Fitz clad only in boxer shorts wandered out.

He squinted in the morning light-- she and Skye _were_ filming a bit earlier than usual-- before widening his eyes when he spotted the camera. Jemma let out a little giggle at the sight of him, then reached out to take his hand and pull him into the frame with her. His gaze drifted from her face, to the camera, then back to her, and she took the opportunity to pull him in for a long, slow kiss.

When she finally pulled away, he looked a little dazed, and she laughed again. She turned back to the camera, her hand still tangled in the curls at the back of her boyfriend’s head, and grinned.

“Believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Barring anything unforeseen, I plan to post the next chapter on Sunday and the last chapter on Tuesday! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Want to chat on Tumblr? I’m [unbreakablejemmasimmons](http://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


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